


My heart inside your hand

by Nagiru



Category: Naruto
Genre: (I don't know if he's present enough to get into the Characters tags but he's there), (as in: shinobi and chakra still exist... but many things are different), (kind of), (not that I expanded on that), (or deity or spirit or something like it), (rated for language and some blood), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Gen, Madara is still a shinobi, Pre-Slash, Protective Uchiha Madara, Tobirama is a god, Uchiha Hikaku - Freeform, look. this was written to be a romance. I just didn't quite get there., mentioned Uchiha Izuna (but he's actually in a coma the whole time), pre-MadaTobi, so is Hashirama but Hashirama is NOT HERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagiru/pseuds/Nagiru
Summary: Izuna is dying and only a miracle can save him now.Well. If that's so, then Madara willgethim a goddamned miracle.
Relationships: (pre) Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Madara
Comments: 12
Kudos: 133





	My heart inside your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mike_H](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_H/gifts).



> I wanted to do something for Mike, because he deserves all the best, and ended up writing god!Tobirama/shinobi!Madara. Somehow. I... hope you like it, Mike.
> 
> A quick explanation of the AU would be... shinobi and stuff still exists, but so do gods (besides Kaguya calling herself a goddess). The Uchiha Clan is basically the strongest shinobi clan around, because the Senju do Not exist. As shinobis, I mean. Both Hashirama and Tobirama are gods, and I guess the rest of the Senju could be, too. Maybe. Even so, all of Madara's brothers but Izuna were killed, so it's still just Madara and Izuna (I'm sorry).  
> (this AU does not necessarily make sense, sorry)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Naruto and characters do not belong to me!**

Madara was a good leader, and he always put his clan before himself. He was an even better older brother, though, and Izuna would _always_ be his priority.

So, when his brother fell sick and was stuck on death bed for days on end, and none of the healers in the clan thought it even possible for Izuna to get better… well. Madara decided he’d have to look _outside_ his clan.

More than that; if no human was able to heal his brother, he’d look _beyond_. If it were necessary for him to sacrifice himself to the gods…

Well. Izuna was his last living brother. If he didn’t make it…

“What are you _saying_ , Madara?!”

Madara frowned at his cousin. Hikaku was usually well behaved, with a good head on his shoulders. He’d thought that if anything were to happen to him, Hikaku would be the best option to lead the clan in his stead. If he disagreed, though…

“I thought I made myself clear?”

“Oh, you have made yourself _understood_ , clear, on the other hand…” Hikaku shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve ever sounded _less_ clear. Why, pray tell, would I need to become the Clan Head?”

Madara huffed, going back to his packing. If that was all of Hikaku’s issues, he could deal with it. “I’ve decided.”

“Decided.” Hikaku repeated in a flat tone.

“Yes. I’ve _decided_.” He rolled his eyes. By the gods, was it an Uchiha trait to be so dramatic, after all? He’d always thought it was just his brothers… and, _perhaps_ , himself, but if even level-headed Hikaku showed it… “I will heal Izuna, no matter what.”

“Madara…”

Oh, he _hated_ the pity in Hikaku’s voice. If it weren’t for the fact that Madara needed him in one piece to lead their clan, Madara would be tossing a fireball his way. Or tossing Hikaku in the pond.

… no, not the pond.

“If no shinobi healer is enough, I will go to those who _will be_.”

“It would be necessary a miracle to heal him, Madara …”

Madara would be hard-pressed to say when was his last smile, but he supposed that whatever it was that he directed Hikaku’s way was good enough to pass for one.

Hikaku would obviously disagree, going from his shiver, but Madara didn’t _care_.

“You really think _that_ will stop me?” He checked through his supplies one last time before slipping everything into the pack on his thigh. “Take care of the clan, Hikaku. And if Izuna dies before I come back…”

Madara didn’t stay long enough to hear Hikaku’s squealed answer.

**.**

He stood before the shrine he’d been hearing about the last few days. It was unnervingly unassuming; just a small construct by the margins of the river. More moss than wood, by this point, even.

But the marks on the front of it told him that he was in the right place, and Madara was beyond the point of caring for appearances. If they were capable of helping Izuna, he’d even deal with _drowned spirits_ , the stories he heard growing up be damned.

With some luck, though, this one _wouldn’t_ be a drowned spirit.

He knelt, digging around the base of the shrine for the rock that was supposedly there. He _hoped_ it was still there. This was the best bet he had, and if it didn’t pan out…

His fingers hit something.

It was there. _It was there_.

He breathed in sharply, cleaning away all the dirt over the rock. It was exactly as described; the same mark of the shrine was pressed tightly into the rock, as if naturally formed that way, and it had long dried marks of past attempts at summoning this spirt.

Summoning this _god_.

Madara looked at it for a moment longer, trying to check with his chakra whether this was real or not. It was… strange. It didn’t _feel_ like chakra, not really, but at the same time, it felt like nothing _but_ chakra, so natural it _hurt_ , and Madara knew, instantly, that this was it. This was the right place.

It was this or nothing.

He breathed deeply and took a kunai from his pouch. He hovered it centimeters away from his open palm and opened his mouth.

The words that spilled from his lips were long practiced, to the point where they lost their meaning and became only sound, something to remember instead of to _know_. Just as he hit the crest of the appeal, he brought the kunai down, slicing quickly through his skin.

The blood dripped quickly to the stone under his hands, filling the mark on it while his words petered off, hopeful.

A second passed. Ten. Thirty. A minute.

Two.

He hissed, anger bubbling deep in his chest — anger and the now-familiar heaviness that had been following him since he first heard of his brother’s illness.

He clenched his hand tightly, fingers pressing painfully against the cut in his palm. He barely noticed it, though, because it had _failed_. _He_ had failed.

Again.

And Izuna…

He pressed his eyes shut, teeth clenched so hard he could feel a headache blossoming.

Izuna, his last brother…

There was a crunch. For one moment, he thought it had been him to cause it. He’d been in the motion of getting up, after all, but… no. He hadn’t really moved yet, had he?

He opened his eyes — sharply aware of the position he was in, of how _vulnerable_ he looked — but dreaded looking up.

He shouldn’t have dreaded.

There hadn’t been anything besides the shrine and the river here. The trees had ended a sharp way away from here. There had been no living creature here, either, he would have _sensed_ it…

Yet, there it was. White and big and _fluffy_ , somehow. Some… _creature_ , that could just as easily be a dragon as it could be a leopard, glittering harshly under the sunlight. White and big and fluffy and _dangerous_ , blood red eyes staring Madara down without any hint of hesitance.

Madara had done it. He… there was no other explanation; he’d _done it_.

“Are you…” He swallowed, his tongue feeling incredibly _heavy_ in his mouth. “Are you the god of life, Hashirama?”

For a moment, he received no answer. Actually, Madara didn’t even _know_ if it could answer. It was a spirit, or a deity, or _something_ , but it wasn’t really _human_ , was it? Was it even capable of human speech, then?

 _It was_ , Madara discovered moments later as the white creature shifted, snout opening to reveal long fangs.

Its voice was… somehow nothing of what Madara expected and _exactly_ what he’d expected, at the same time.

“I see humanity has failed to learn from its mistakes. _Again._ ”

Damn it. Had Madara managed to anger it already?

“I apologize,” Madara hastened to say, his heart pumping away too loudly in his ears. “I do not wish to anger you. I will offer you anything you wish; I offer you my blood and chakra. I offer you any riches or food or material objects. I—”

“Offer me your life, yes, I have gathered that from your quite unnecessary chant, as always.” The creature interrupted him, managing to sound put-upon, somehow. “And as always, my answer is: I require none of it.”

No one had told him this _god_ was so… so…

“You are supposed to be _helpful_ ,” Madara said, bitingly. The anger and bitterness in his chest rising to his throat. “Are you not a god of _life_? We share our lives with you, and you… you can’t even _hear_ us out?”

Was… was it _laughing_?

“I am _not_ ,” It said, teeth flashing dangerously, “a god of life. And the quicker you humans start being able to differentiate between Hashirama and mine’s names, the quicker you will stop being _disappointed_ when I refuse to do what is not my _duty_.”

What.

Madara rose to his feet quickly, fire burning in his chest, stronger than any time before. _What_. Had the men in the village _misled him_?!

“Who,” he growled, “ _are_ you?”

It _was_ laughing. At Madara’s fate.

Madara was going to _murder_ it.

It was also… _shifting_. Somehow. Into… something much easier to comprehend. Something almost _human_ , though too tall and too _pointy_ still, horns growing from its head and fangs too large for its human visage, and clothes too hot for the warmth of the season.

It looked nothing like the creature of before, yet Madara couldn’t see anyone _not_ recognizing it immediately, were them to see it.

“I am Tobirama.” The creature said, voice lilted in that tone that seemed to be _amusement_. “And I am the god of _water_.”

Fuck.

Madara clenched his teeth, smoke burning in his nostrils as he swallowed down an instinctive fireball.

 _Fuck_.

“And now, who might _you_ be, mortal?”

**.**

Madara was… not dead.

Neither was _Izuna_ , which was the best thing Madara had heard in _months_.

No, lies. There was one thing that was even better than hearing Izuna was _not dead_.

“He will heal.” He repeated to himself, disbelief still heavy in his tongue. “Izuna will _heal_.”

By his side, the god— _Tobirama_ —huffed, amused. “As I have said, four times already.”

Madara was smiling so hard it hurt, and his heart was pounding so loud he thought everyone was capable of hearing it, and his brother still _slept_ , unaware of the world around him, and he still owed Tobirama.

Life had never sounded so _good_.

“You are a ridiculous man.”

Madara couldn’t even bristle at the words; he was just too _happy_ for it. “I am.”

Tobirama huffed again, a small trickle of water curling in the air before his mouth. It had been strangely curious, the first time Tobirama did it, but now Madara couldn’t look at it and not remember Tobirama _healing his brother_ , and it went from “strangely curious” to “worthy of adoration”.

“I will give you anything,” Madara said again, though he’d already made this promise twice before. “Whatever you request will be yours. Just… give me long enough to see my brother brought back to our clan, and you may take it all.”

Claws closed around Madara’s wrist. He went willingly as Tobirama pulled him closer, until Madara was leant so far into Tobirama’s space he could no longer look away from those red eyes.

His breath caught in his chest.

He hadn’t… been able to _look_ into them so well before. Hadn’t managed to _bring himself_ to look into them before.

They were _beautiful_.

“I have already told you, _Madara_ ,” Tobirama said, voice lilted with amusement and a huff of annoyance. “I already have what I want.”

Before Madara could question what that was ( _again_ ), he _felt_ it. Cold, trickling water-like chakra running through his veins, somehow not putting off the natural fire in his chest.

 _Tobirama_. Not only Tobirama’s chakra, but _Tobirama_ , all that made Tobirama himself. His energy, his essence, his _life_.

Deep into Madara’s body.

“How…”

“You offered yourself to me, human,” Tobirama answered in a soft growl. “I said I do not require it.” He then smirked, long fangs sharp and dangerous and threatening so close to Madara’s face. “I never said I do not _accept it_.”

By his back, Izuna breathed, uninterrupted.

Before him, Tobirama lazed, a predator brought to human form. A creature, never a mortal. Water — healing and death, all mixed together.

Inside him, the fire stoked itself higher and higher, emotions he couldn’t begin to untangle burning away with the added water that never hurt it.

Madara had promised himself he wouldn’t regret any sacrifice he had to make, as long as it kept his brother alive.

Now, staring at the price of Izuna’s healing in the face, Madara… didn’t think he ever _would_ regret it, or even get close to.

“Well…” Madara said, a smile blossoming on his own lips. “I hope you know I don’t accept take-backs”

Tobirama growled, the sound heavy and rhythmic to the point it sounded almost like a purr.

(Madara remembered he hadn’t been able to tell whether Tobirama was a dragon or a leopard. He wondered if Tobirama _did_ , in fact, purr. He supposed he would have time to _discover that_. That he’d have the _opportunity_ to discover that.)

“Good.” Those lips approached more, brushing coldly against Madara’s face, centimeters from his own lips. “Because neither do I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Rolling in the deep" by Adele.
> 
> I may expand upon this universe in the future if struck by a new idea. (Hope I do, because I actually enjoyed writing this)


End file.
